I went to Home Depot last night for a few items...some curtain rod equipment, an extention cord (okay...we don't have an outdoor outlet to plug our Christmas lights in to. How does this happen?), and I also found a metal hangar item to hang my bike in the garage. On my way in, I decided to take a look at thermostats, since the ones we have are original to the house (1954ish) and the whole heating system has been a little tetchy lately, which we think the thermostats are in on. I wanted to scope it out because I know that programmable thermostats can really help regulate your oil use and lower your bills. Let me point out that the reason I know about this is in large part because I process thermostat rebates at work, and therefore not only know the benefits, but also know stuff like model numbers and ranges. Remember that, it's important.
So I am standing in front of the thermostats, and the Home Depot dude asks if I need help. No problem, I tell him I'm all set, and go back to looking at the thermostats, because as we know,
"no, I'm all set thanks" indicates to English speakers that a person is...all set.
"So, looking at thermostats, huh?"
Oh, this is the game. Okay. "Yes." And of course that isn't enough to signal him to leave, either, because he then begins taking them off the shelf and explaining them to me, at which point I say "Yeah, I know. I work at an energy conservation company, and I process the thermostat rebates. I look at this stuff all day." I also touched the pad of rebate forms hanging right on the shelf to demonstrate that these, in fact, were the ones I processed, which they were.
What would you do?
Because I, personally, would go find someone else to pester, like the guy toting around a weedwhacker examining the oil line, or the guys with backwards baseball caps on at the end of the aisle. However, the Home Depot guy is clearly nothing like you or I, and instead begins explaining that you need thermostats specific to your heating fuel.
At this point I'd really had it. Just because I'm wearing a pink shirt and pointy shoes does not mean I'm a home improvement/heating/whatever moron, and I have just told you I'm fine SEVERAL TIMES and explained that I DEAL WITH THERMOSTATS AT MY JOB. So I turned around to him, and said "You know what, I KNOW that you need different ones for different fuels. I probably know more about it than you do, so if you could just fuck. Off. And let me look at the goddamn thermostats, that would be great." Maybe it was an overreaction, but I am pretty sure it was the only way I was going to get rid of him, so I was okay with the drastic action. He kind of shuffled away to go pester the baseball cap guys. I hope they did better with him than I did.
I don't get this whole thing of girls not being able to do stuff. I was flipping out the other day at a TV show where the insinuation was that girls don't like sports. I love sports. LOTS of girls I know love sports. My most frequent rival is the Sony Bravia TV, the makers of which believe that the gender line divides all, thus women like shoes and never, ever action movies, and men like action movies and never, ever shoes. They have this goddamn commercial where it's basically a long shot of the Bravia TV, and then there's a flash of something that you need to pause with your DVR to see. It's something where you have two options that you theoretically go to their website to vote for...one is one a blue background saying "would you rather watch some kind of action movie blah blah blah explosions blah blah blah" and the other is on a pink background saying "would you rather watch some movie about a woman marrying her prince blah blah blah shoes blah blah blah." What the hell? Maybe I want to watch BOTH. Maybe it's okay for me to simultaneously wear 4 inch heels while screaming at the rooted tree of a defenseman to move his ass and hit someone at a hockey game. Maybe you shouldn't assume that because I have tits I want to watch some boring ass romcom with Jennifer Aniston. Maybe the Transporter is one of my favorite movies. Maybe I have over 50 pairs of shoes.
Meanwhile, we also went out last night to buy $1000 of toys for Friendly House at Walmart, and one of the things I knew the girls would love but hated to buy were these stupid Bratz dolls...they are miniature hookers, guys. Seriously. Where is the one wearing soccer pants and a hoodie? Where's the one NOT DRESSED LIKE A HOOKER? Where is the Congress Barbie and the rock climbing Barbie? Where's the kick ass without feeling like your skirts need to be an inch below your vagina to make an impact doll?
Where are the real live versions of these dolls?